One time—one short, stupid night—he’d been sure it was the opposite.
But that had passed quickly. And in the end, he’d watched her leave town without looking back while he, all in all, had to say he was glad to see her go. As Michael had pointed out to him, not so subtly, he didn’t have what she was looking for in a guy: money, position and the potential for rapid advancement.
Not that he’d ever let Michael, or anyone else, know of his feelings for Grace.
Michael had just seemed to pick up on the situation himself. It wasn’t that Michael was particularly perceptive, or so spiritually bonded to Grace that he perceived anything extraordinary about her, it was only that he always believed everyone wanted what he had. And he was ace at keeping what was his, whether it was a car or a girl.
Michael Bowes had somehow even managed to get Blue Moon High School to retire his football jersey at the end of his unremarkable varsity run.
The strange thing was that Luke had never known Michael to let go of any of his prized possessions, even after he’d completely lost interest in them. Once in high school Luke had spotted a broken Louisville Slugger in the back of Michael’s garage when they were working on his vintage ’65 Mustang convertible…and Grace was a much finer prize than that Louisville Slugger.
It was hard to imagine Michael letting go of her. Luke had been surprised about it ever since he’d heard the news several months back that they were divorcing. At first he’d half expected Grace to come back to town, but when she hadn’t come right away, he figured she never would. He’d figured he was safe.
He’d figured wrong.
* * *
Turned down for a job as a bus driver.
That was bad enough, but she’d been turned down by Luke Stewart, who she never thought she’d have to see again…much less under circumstances like these.
She’d made a mistake with Luke, there was no doubt about it. A mistake, it seemed, he’d never forget. Or forgive. She’d made a bad bargain for her future, and, in the process, wounded his male pride. It was nothing more than a glancing blow to his ego, but he was still willing to use it against her, even under circumstances as dire as those she faced now.
Her life couldn’t get a lot worse than this, Grace thought, kicking a dead locust from the path in front of her and feeling mean. She was living at her mother’s again, with no money and no skills to get a job, even a lousy job. That was another bad bargain she’d made: the housewife bargain. Believing her future to be secure, if not deliriously happy, she’d concentrated her efforts on making a comfortable home for her family. In so doing, she’d let technology and the job market pass her by. Now she could barely even see them in the distance.
So much for saving for her future.
It was beginning to seem entirely possible that she’d be stuck in this sandpit of a town for the rest of her life. She’d become one of those wacky old ladies whom everyone referred to as “Miz Grace.” Except for the kids who would call her dis-Grace, and who would ring her doorbell late at night and run.
She walked across the pretty green campus and thought ruefully of how nice it would have been for Jimmy to go to school here, just like she had done herself. Blue Moon Bay was a far cry from Morris, New Jersey. Here you could see horses from the school room window instead of traffic. Jimmy would love that.
When she got to the small gravel parking lot, she noticed a familiar older man getting out of a shining Lincoln. It only took her a moment to place him.
“Mr. Bailey?” Fred Bailey had been a friend of her parents for years. A lifetime bachelor, he was a big lawyer with offices in D.C. and Annapolis. He’d lived in Blue Moon Bay since he was a young man. In fact, he’d grown up with her mother, and gone to school with her through twelfth grade. They’d even dated briefly before he’d gone off to law school at Princeton.
He’d moved back to Blue Moon Bay six years later, after Grace’s parents had married, and made the 90-minute commute to his offices, remaining a pillar of Blue Moon Bay society. Though Grace hadn’t thought about Fred Bailey in a very long time, seeing him brought back a flood of warm memories. He was so much like her father that she had to fight an impulse to run into his arms. She could imagine how he would smell, of peppermint and pipe smoke. Just thinking about it made her feel more relaxed than she had for months.
“Mr. Bailey,” she said again.
He turned to her, his expression blank.
Her heart sank.
“It’s Grace Bowes…Perigon,” she said, fighting back a sudden overwhelming weakness in her limbs.
His face broke into a wide smile. “Grace? Good heavens, I wasn’t expecting to see you here!” He patted his breast pocket and took out a glasses case. As soon as he put his spectacles on, his eyes grew wide behind the thick glass. “So it is you!” He opened his arms, and she gave him a hug. “Welcome home, child. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you ever since I heard you were coming back. How long has it been?”
“Since Dad’s funeral.”
“My goodness, that’s a long time. Look at you, just as lovely as ever. Your father would be so proud.” He smiled again and clucked his tongue against his teeth. “I still miss the old fellow.”
She smiled, and her chest felt full but her eyes burned again. “Me too.”
“Well, what are you doing here?” Fred Bailey asked. “Not coming back to school, I expect.” He chuckled.
“Apparently not,” she said, a touch wryly.
“Beg pardon?”
She shrugged. “Well, I was here to apply for a job, but apparently I’m not properly qualified.” She resisted the childish urge to say, That mean, spiteful Luke Stewart wouldn’t give it to me.
Mr. Bailey’s brow lowered. “What job? I didn’t think there were any teaching positions open.”
Grace cleared her throat lightly. “It wasn’t a teaching job.”
“Not teaching?” He wasn’t going to let this go. “Was it administrative?”
“It was driving. The bus. Driving the school bus.” There. She’d said it. She’d admitted out loud that she’d been turned down as a bus driver.
It felt even worse now.
“Driving the school bus?” the older man repeated, with the same incredulity he might have shown if she’d said she wanted to become a trapeze artist. “That’s no job for a Perigon. Let’s go talk to Luke Stewart and see if we can’t find something reasonable for you here.” He took her arm and started leading her to the building she’d just left.
“No. Please.” Her reaction was too strong. He dropped her arm, startled. She smiled. “I mean, the driving position really was the one I wanted. It had flexible hours and would allow me to be with Jimmy when there was no school.” She tried to imagine Luke’s reaction if she reappeared with a big gun like Fred Bailey, demanding that a new position of some kind be created for her. “But it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t think I’ll be able to get the license on time.” She didn’t know why she felt like she had to defend Luke’s decision suddenly.
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin. “Well, I must confess I don’t know much about that.”
“It’s okay. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll find something else.”
“I’m sure you will.” Mr. Bailey looked at his watch. “I must go. I’ve gotten so caught up in talking to you, I forgot I had a board meeting. I want to see more of you now. Welcome back, Gracie.”
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